


Spike or Spikette?

by spikeisthebigbad



Series: Spike and John's Totally Epic Adventure. [2]
Category: Buffy the Vampire Slayer, Torchwood
Genre: Domestic Fluff, F/M, Gender or Sex Swap, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-22
Updated: 2017-03-22
Packaged: 2018-10-09 05:55:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,927
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10405416
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/spikeisthebigbad/pseuds/spikeisthebigbad
Summary: Do to a patrolling snafu Spike comes home one night sporting a lovely set of breasts. John's thrilled, but Spike isn't comfortable with her sudden change of pronouns. Can John make the temporary change fun for the disgruntled vampire?This is a sequel to my other story, Kiss Kiss Stake Stake. You'll want to read that one first to make sense of Spike's relationship with John.





	

The door to the apartment slammed closed, and John set his video game control on the bedspread he lounged on. “That you, sweetheart?"

“Umm, sort of,” came a very feminine, accented voice. Not Spike.

John slid off the bed, and grabbed his gun from atop the nightstand as he crept towards the bedroom door. He held his weapon close and down as he peeked around the corner. There, in his living room, drenched in rain water and something he assumed was demon blood, stood the most breathtakingly beautiful woman he’d ever seen. She glared at him as she shucked a heavy leather duster. Spike’s duster, he thought absently.

“One bloody word out of your gob, John, and I’ll castrate you,” the woman threatened.

“Who- Spike?”

“Who else, you ponce?” She – he? John’s head spun with desire and confusion- pulled the over-sized black tee-shirt off and tossed it aside. “Fought the wrong demon. The thing was some sort of magical gender bender. Its blood turned us into our opposite sexes,” Spike explained as she let her jeans fall.

“We? Buffy grew herself some tackle?”

“Yeah, so did Anya, and the Whelp lost his. That was fun. Course I lost mine too. That wasn’t fun.”

John took in his mate’s new look. Spike wasn’t a terribly tall man, and he-- she wasn’t a terribly tall woman, but her legs were long and lean, her thighs strong and supple. Her stomach was just as flat, but soft instead of hard, with gentle curves, and full breasts instead of defined pectorals. Her neck was long and elegant, milky white. His teeth itched to mark the flawless skin. Her full lips were set in a pout that was all too familiar. Her hair was such a pale gold it looked almost white, and it fell in loose curls around her shoulders. Her eyes were the same electric blue.

“John, I’m starting to feel like Little Red Riding Hood, or Goldilocks or something. Stop with the staring.”

John stalked forward predatorily, running his tongue over his bottle lip. “I think,” he purred, “I’m going to eat you all up, lamb.”

Spike shook her head. “Wanker off. You’re not laying a finger on me ‘til I’m back to normal.”

John stopped, surprised. “Why not? The way I see it our fun just got easier. Less prep time.”

“You sure know how to woo a woman,” Spike snarked. “I don’t want to be a woman. I don’t want to have sex as a woman. I don’t want to do anything as a bloody woman!”

“I’d let you ravage me,” he moped. “Come on, Spike, I can make you feel just as good as before, maybe better. I know my way around a woman. Ask Buffy.”

She rolled her eyes. “No. I’m taking a shower.” She stomped off into the bathroom, locking the door loudly.

“Bint,” he muttered as he tidied up Spike’s mess. “Still leaves clothes around like I’m the buggering maid. Some things don’t change.”

 

XoXoXoXoXoXoXo

  


The hot water pelted Spike’s head as she stared down at the breasts that now belonged to her. She ran her hands over the supple flesh as though to verify their existence. Her hands moved further south, caressing her ribcage and sides. Her hips weren’t narrow any longer; they curved and felt all womanly. She growled in frustration. She liked being a man. She enjoyed soft skin over steel-hard muscle, and broad shoulders with a narrow waist. She liked feeling masculine. She liked feeling equal to John. Everything was wrong. She was shorter, smaller, more delicate looking. She didn’t feel like an equal.

The last of the soap and demon blood swirled down the drain as she turned off the water. She toweled dry and brushed her teeth, lamenting, not for the first time, her lack of a reflection.

With a fluffy white towel wrapped securely around her body she left the bathroom. If John tried to touch her, she mused, she’d break whatever appendage stuck out the most.

“Spike?” John said softly as she entered their bedroom. “I’m sorry you aren’t comfortable like this. I’m sorry I upset you.”

Spike’s heart melted around the edges. “I know, luv. It’s okay. I’m just… This is weird, and new.” She pulled one of her standard black tee-shirts on, and let the towel fall. She slipped on a pair of seldom used boxers as well. They were big in odd places, but they fit well enough.

“Can I stay in our bed if I promise to behave?” John asked hopefully.

Spike snorted, but crawled under the covers beside him. “You don’t know the meaning of the word.”

He wrapped his arms around his diminutive mate. “I know I want you to feel safe with me.” He kissed the top of her head. “I kind of like this. You fit just right.”

“Don’t get used to it. The Watcher is working on a cure. This’ll be over in a few days tops.” She nuzzled into his chest. She’d deny it if accused, but she enjoyed how she fit just as much. “I like listening to your heartbeat,” she murmured against the white cotton of his tee.

“You’ve mentioned that a time or two before.” He stroked his fingers through her damp hair. It was as soft as ever. “Love the hair by the way.”

“Mmm, think the slayer is jealous of my beauty. Think the Whelp wet himself when he saw me.” She laughed. “I suppose that means I make one hell of a man or woman.”

John growled possessively. “Mine.” He pulled her closer. “Harris even dreams of touching you and I’ll skin him. Don’t care what gender he is.”

Spike shivered, muscles deep in her belly constricting deliciously. John’s possessiveness never failed to be a turn on. “Wouldn’t touch Xander with a ten foot pole, John. You know I’m yours. Mated you, didn’t I?” She tipped her head back to gaze up into her mate’s heated eyes. The desire there made her moan.

John’s lips fell to hers, drawing her into a deep, but closed mouth kiss. Spike’s lips stubbornly refused to part until he coaxed her thigh over his hip and ground his erection against her core. She gasped and he took advantage of the moment, delving into her mouth to tease her tongue into playing.

Spike pushed against John as she rolled onto her back. “No,” she bit through gasps of air. “Not like this.”

John followed her back, moving to hover over her. “Spike, please,” he whispered against the skin of her neck. His lips found his claim mark, still present on his mate.

“John,” she warned.

“I want to make you feel good, baby.” He nipped his mark, eliciting a kittenish moan from his lover. “Let me make this a good thing.” He held himself on one forearm, while his other hand pushed up her shirt. “Soft. So soft.”

Spike’s eyes fell closed as John worked her body the way only he could. She fought to remember why she was denying them intimacy, but her mind refused to produce the answer.

“Off,” John murmured as he tugged her shirt up. He stripped it off easily, his hungry gaze eating up the sight of creamy, smooth skin.

“I don’t- I don’t know about this,” she breathed. “I’m not me.”

John nuzzled her throat. “It’s you, Spike.” He pecked her lips. “I know it’s you. I love you. Never felt this for anyone else. Just you. Male or female.”

Spike wrapped her arms around his neck. “Well then kiss me again, and then strip.”

John grinned wolfishly. “I can accommodate that.”

Spike drew John’s shirt up and off. She only had a moment to admire his chest before his lips attacked her peaked nipples. “John,” she gasped, her fingers tangled in his hair.

He slipped his hand into the vampire’s over-sized boxers, his fingers tracing her nether lips. “God you’re so bloody wet,” he groaned against her flesh. “Want you.” He tugged the boxers off her, and shifted to remove his own sleep shorts.

Spike pushed him onto his back and straddled him. “If we do this then I get to be on top.”

He grazed his palms down her sides, and grasped her hips. “Happily. The power’s yours, Spike,” he murmured as he thrust the length of his cock against her pussy. “But next time I’m going down on you."  


Spike arched, sliding over his swollen member again. “Yes,” she hissed.

John slipped a hand between them, positioning himself at her entrance. “Be a good girl and ride me into the bed. Can’t wait any longer.”

Spike braced her hands on his chest and caught her full bottom lip between her teeth as she hesitantly took him in.

John lay still beneath her, softly cursing as her cool, wet pussy greedily pulled him in. They were both panting by the time she was fully seated. Their lips met, and their tongues dance as John’s hands coaxed Spike into a slow rolling motion.

He dragged his mouth down her throat. “Yes, Spike. Bloody hell yes. So tight.” His teeth sank into her tender flesh and she bucked against him. “Wanna taste you,” he growled. “Gonna bury my face ‘tween you thighs.” He bucked back and the pace increased. “Wanna taste myself in you. Feel that marvy quim of yours constrict around my tongue.”

John excelled at turning Spike on with his words. He made it an art. One that transcended gender, Spike found.

“Fuck,” she cried and threw her head back and rode his dick with abandon. Her nipples once again found themselves under attack. The sensation clenched muscles deep down, which in turn spurred John to suck harder.

John shifted under her, causing her clit to drag against his pubic bone on every downward thrust.

Spike’s body constricted and shuddered in pleasure. It was an orgasm, she decided. It couldn’t be anything else. Her mind soared somewhere high as her climax washed over her again and again.

John rolled them then, hovering over her as he thrust against her. His teeth found her neck again, and clamped down on the mating mark he left there a year before. Her fangs slid into his own flesh and he lost it. He jerked inside her, hot streams of his semen invading her, making their motions slicker. After an eternity he dropped to his back beside her.

“Wow,” he breathed.

Spike hummed her agreement, too exhausted to move.

“Give me a tick, poodle,” John said, rolling to his side to face her. “I still intend on tasting you.”

“I’m still going back to being a man,” she reminded.

“Of course. I’d miss your lovely appendages eventually.” He brushed his lips over hers. “Can we finally agree that you’re the wife?” He grinned.

Spike snorted. “God you’re insufferable.”

“And you love me for it.” John settled between her legs, kissing a line down her throat.

“More like despite of.” She moaned. “I’ll be the wife until I change back if you agree you’re the wife every other day."

John nipped her collarbone. “I pay the bills. You cook the dinners. Still think you’re the wife.”

Spike chuckled. “Wives can support households.” She ran her fingers through his hair as he worked his way down her stomach.

“One night as a woman, and you are a feminist.” He nuzzled her bellybutton.

“Always have been. Comes from knowing so many strong women.”

“Hmm, think I’m more interested in making one strong woman come,” John said before dipping down to taste his lover.


End file.
